


Synonyms

by kritter



Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Character Swap
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-19
Updated: 2019-06-19
Packaged: 2020-05-15 00:27:25
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,189
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19284343
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kritter/pseuds/kritter
Summary: In a different world where things were a bit switched around...





	Synonyms

“It’s ninety-two degrees and overcast outside,” the voice stated to Carl, notifying him of the weather as soon as Leo had drawn the curtains.

“Sounds like a great day to stay in bed,” Carl muttered as he rolled onto his side, closing his eyes while he felt himself doze back into unconsciousness. Leo settled beside him on the bed, gently grabbing his shoulder with a soft nudge.

“Come on, Carl. It’s time to take your medication. You know we can’t skip that. It’s important.” Lifting faded gray eyebrows, Carl sighed, turning back over so he was on his back and held out his arm for the typical routine. Leo fetched the device needed, planting the needle carefully into Carl’s arm while it automatically dispensed the chemicals.

“I won’t be here forever, you know,” Carl brought up.

“What will you do when you have the house to yourself?” Blinking, the blue ring on Leo’s temple rotated with a few times while it considered the question.

“I don’t know. Look after things, I guess. I could rent it out for a roommate, maybe,” it thought out loud, glancing out the window to the cloudy skies. It looked like a nice day to paint, it mused.

“Honestly I thought you were gonna sell the place, but maybe there’s no point.”

“Oh, no, they want to turn it into a museum,” Carl said with disdain in his voice, face lengthening as he griped.

“I’m not having my home become a display case, though. They can do that with my art, not with my house. I want you to have the place. Markus can, too, if he ever comes home.” Always quiet about the subject, Leo nodded once.

“Has he called?”

“No, Carl. Want me to call him?” With sadness in his eyes, Carl glanced away, covering the part of his inner elbow that had been nicked with the needle as he waited for the sting to dissipate.

“No, thank you. I need to use the restroom and I’d like breakfast.”

“You got it,” Leo responded, standing up to scoop him out of bed and begin the sequence of chores.

-

“I don’t have anything for you here,” Carl snapped, doing his best to keep a civil composure. Markus’ hands were on the sides of his head, feeling the pinpricks of unshaved hair poking out from his scalp and face that cast a shadow over his cheeks that made him look a bit older and much more tired.

“Don’t lie to me, you know that’s not the truth,” Markus said with dismay, walking over to grab one of the nearby canvases and tuck it under his arm.

“ _Some_  would say it’s impolite to steal from your dad,” the android quipped from its place, standing next to Carl with a downcast glare in Markus’ direction from its position.

“Oh, shut up, you picture-perfect little prick,” Markus said with a surprisingly smooth tone. His anger was but a flickering flame, generally tame unless you added to the fire, but it could flicker and consume with fury given the chance.

“You’re just another rich people expense that’s taking advantage of the markets and utilizing the situation of poverty for the sake of another multi-millionaire company.” Turning to look at his father, he frowned.

“I expected better. I know you didn’t want me around, but  _replacing_  me? And with one of  _those?_ ” He gestured to Leo with his other arm, setting aside the canvas as he redirected his attention to the argument he decided was now at hand.

“I’m surprised it doesn’t have blonde hair and blue eyes, you superficial asshole.” Carl sighed.

“We’ve had this conversation, Markus. It isn’t about  _that_. I needed a caretaker and you know I don’t have any immediate family to rely on. You certainly haven’t done your share in helping me after the accident, either. I know you would be upset with me no matter what the android’s skin color was, anyway.” Glowering, Markus acknowledged that he was right, and he didn’t like that. When he went to reach for the art again, Leo stepped up to him, holding a hand out to signal him as it put itself between the two of them.

“Sorry, but I’m not gonna let you do that. Leave Carl’s stuff alone and get out of the house before I call the police.” Vision darkening, Markus took one more step forward, analyzing Leo as he stared down at it with looming green eyes.

“Easy for you to say, when the protection is on  _your_  side,” he said with long-festering hatred in his tone. Being a poor person of color in the light of bright privileged white men’s flashlights was never a beneficial angle, and he’d make sure it was never forgotten as long as he lived.

“Get out of Carl’s house. This is your last warning.”

“You’re lucky you’re not scrap metal. I could make more money selling  _you_. Not to mention blue blood goes for a nice price these days,” Markus underhanded, prompting a particularly hurt glance from his father.

“Don’t be gruesome,” Carl told him.

“Joke’s on you, father. I know you like to think these assholes bleed and all, but it’s just advanced oil, really.” Casting Leo a sideways glance, he sneered, shoving it away by the chest in one rough motion.

“Bettering our society…by what? Replacing humans with these  _dolls?_ ”

“Androids have been useful for a variety of things and are particularly handy in cases like mine, with  _disability_ ,” Carl repeated yet again, slowing his words as he wondered if they ever get through. Markus sighed, rolling his eyes.

“I’m poor too,  _dad_ , but that doesn’t mean it’s fine to just cast me aside and get one of  _these things_  instead!”

“What am I supposed to do? A human nurse will tire out and be left just as miserable as I am watching me wither away, and there’s no need for that. Leo has taken great care of me,” Carl explained with more care than he knew his son would appreciate listening to.

“I don’t expect you to understand that, Markus, but please respect the situation for what it is, and not what you don’t like about it.” The wisdom cut deep as Markus folded his arms, shifting his weight and leaning back on one leg. Leo’s eyes never left him.

“I’ll  _respect_  these mannequins as soon as I get the respect  _I_  deserve first,” Markus snapped. The way Carl and his android both stared him down made him feel uncomfortable, so he backed away and turned around to leave.

“You can’t act like a victim in the shoes of an opposer,” Carl warned him with keen words he knew Markus would hear, understand, and remember. Predictably, Markus froze in place, even with the paintings under his arm and fury beneath his skin.

“You don’t know what being a victim is, you spoiled son of a bitch,” Markus spat with poison in a voice that weighed memorably under his breath, ashamed to be speaking such words from his own mouth to his  _father_  of all people before they so much as left his mind. As if awoken from an unidentified stillness, Leo shifted into motion again, having stood idly by while the two had their exchange and it felt no need to intervene until the situation became particularly heated.

“Get out of my way,” Markus warned it between clenched teeth.

“Not ‘til you hand over the art,” Leo responded.

“Please, Markus,” Carl agonized, leaning back in his wheelchair.

“I’ll give you a hundred dollars, but that’s it. I want you to leave. I don’t want to see you on my property again, son,” he said with heartbreak in his voice, but kept his tone somber.

“But you’re not selling my art to buy drugs with.” Markus, while looking for an ultimate gain in his quest of money and material items, ironically hated when Carl bargained so easily. There was no way to win when he tried to remain neutral and meet halfway, and no way to lose. Always on a mission to outsmart his father, it often hurt his ego to fail.

“Your art’s worth way more,” Markus argued simply.

“I want a grand.” Carl scoffed, closing his eyes and turning towards to Leo, ensuring it was safe where it was; watching and listening quietly but always prepared to step in if need be.

“That’s ridiculous,” Carl denied. Temper flaring, Markus tossed aside the painting, thrusting it to the ground and stepping over the wooden frame so it snapped beneath his feet. Leo stepped forward, stopping him in place.

“Last warning, pal,” it remarked with a yellow flash of its LED swiftly turning red once Markus cast it a particularly dark glare.

“Take it or leave it and get out.” That was it. He went to shove the machine, only to find his vision blank and a loud ringing in his ears.

-

“I’m sorry, Carl. I didn’t mean to-“ Leo’s hands were pressed to the sides of its head as it froze in place, trying to decide what to do with a turn of its heel before it began to pace.

“Get out of here, Leo,” he warned gravely under his breath, looking up at the android with a solemn gaze in his eyes.

“They’ll tear you apart.  _Go!”_ The gunshots were the last thing Carl heard before a tightness in his chest swept him away from consciousness.

-

Waking up with his heart thrumming heavily to the sound of beeping monitors was one thing. Hearing the newscast about his own father nearly dying of a heart attack while he and the android were right there on the scene was another.

The words didn’t immediately register for what they were, but his memory was good enough they echoed in his mind crisply so it was stored for later, when he could think over it all again when his head didn’t hurt. Coughing, he felt his breath catch in his throat, turning to stare down a trash can and vomit into it.

The next thing he realized was the blood dripping down his face from his forehead, fingers grazing over the wound with an upward glance of disgust. It wasn’t too bad; he’d suffered worse, and if they didn’t wrap it up, it probably wasn’t anything to worry about.  _Still_. He took a moment to question whether he was left in the ICU, a familiar scene settling in once he took a look around him.

“Not again,” he groaned out loud to himself, rubbing a hand over his forehead with a sigh as disappointment welled in his chest and nausea tugged his stomach tight. He’d gotten high again, he recollected, thinking back to his time before the ‘visit’ to Carl’s house. Running his hands over his pockets, he checked to see if he had his phone; he did. Pulling it out, he glanced over his recent calls, squinting through the blurry vision as his eyes adjusted to the brightness of the screen.

Carl tried to call once, no voicemail left behind. Checking the time from three hours ago, he sighed, deleting the notification and carelessly tossing the phone onto the plastic stand next to him. In the process of the device clinking over the furniture, he heard the rattle of a pill bottle and the sound of shaking dishware, glancing over to realize someone had left him a small meal and some medication; probably to help with the withdrawal symptoms. Without an appetite, he felt no real drive to eat, but chewed away at half of the sandwich and a portion of the peach fruit cup sitting nearby. Swallowing down the glass of water in halves, he took the medication in-between before laying down in his side in case the nausea caught up with him again, feeling dizzy and lightheaded.

-

“Dad’s worried you’re dead.” The way it said  _dad_  settled illy on his ears.

“Well, now you can tell him I’m not,” Markus said flatly.

“Is he going to come visit me or not? He could have called me himself instead of having his android do it,” he murmured. Leo’s voice held no audible difference in reaction.

“Only if you agree to sober up.” Regret formed a knot in his throat, and he felt like his entire head had gone numb.

“For how long?”

“I dunno,” it responded, and the aspect seemed strange to him that an  _ever-intelligent android_  didn’t know something.

“That’s not a fair bargain, if he doesn’t even set the terms,” Markus stated stubbornly in a low tone.

“It’s not up to me,” Leo responded. He sighed.

“You didn’t get taken to the scrapyard, huh?”

“I did. I pieced myself back together and left,” Leo replied simply. Markus narrowed his eyebrows in confusion, squinting at the screen of the hospital TV as he tried to digest the news. Nothing was really settling in through the headache from his fall.

“That’s…freaky,” was all he thought to say, and hung up the phone, setting it aside on the nearby nightstand with a sigh. It was time to make some big decisions for himself.


End file.
